


A Translation of Tongues

by Bluerain1984



Series: Strangers in a Strange Land [11]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon Trans Character, Clothed Sex, Damien wants to carry it, Dildos, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Gen, Grief, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Mourning, Really sexy things, Right before the dam bursts, Robert has a lot of baggage, Sex Toys, Trans Character, talking things out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 15:32:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11854497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluerain1984/pseuds/Bluerain1984
Summary: 'He stood, taking Damien by the hand and pulling him up.“I want you,” Robert murmured as he placed his hands on Damien’s waist. The older man moved his feet backward until they were stopped by the wall that framed the stairwell.“You have me,” Damien said. His earlier doubts and trepidation had flown from his thoughts. Damien drew himself up taller, and stepped out of Robert’s grasp. It was time to put his plan in motion.'





	A Translation of Tongues

**Author's Note:**

> Time for another round of smut! With a sprinkling of angst. I hope you're prepared.

Damien was feeling more nervous about this evening than he had about many other things before. He knew he shouldn’t have had much apprehension. But there was something about returning to Robert’s house, now that they were lovers, that had him second guessing himself. At least in his own home, Damien felt some ease, some strength in familiar territory. For some strange reason, he felt uneasy. There was no reason to be, he was sure, but still. Maybe it was what he had planned for tonight that was causing him such doubt. Damien had taken the day to consider his and Robert’s relationship, and where they needed to progress to. He thought of all their times both talking and being intimate, and he’d noticed many patterns. Damien wanted to add a little change to that, to move things along. Was it too fast? Given that their romance was rapidly progressing already, Damien supposed what he had in the works would not be too much of a stretch.

Thus, once he had packed his overnight bag and made himself entirely presentable, Damien walked the short distance to Robert’s house. He ignored the flotsam that still littered the yard around Robert’s home, walked up onto the porch, and gave the door a loud, though polite, knock. It was nine o’five (best to give Robert time, in case any preparations took longer than anticipated, and fashionably late was always a preference, wasn’t it?). Damien’s wait wasn’t too long. The door opened and Robert had once again taken a clear effort to make himself presentable. Damien’s lover wore no jacket, but he did sport a rare change in his usual state of dress by wearing a white t-shirt that showed off Robert’s statuesque arms and chest, along with Robert’s usual choice in jeans.

“Hey, baby,” Robert’s tone was a soft, pleased rumble. “Come on in.” As Damien crossed the threshold, Robert remarked, “You’re just stayin’ the night, sweetheart. What’s the bag for?”

“I do have work tomorrow, dearest,” Damien explained. “I’ve only brought a few toiletries and my job attire.”

“Eh, if it means you get to stay a little longer tomorrow, I guess it’s fine.” Robert moved up behind Damien to take the Goth in a tight embrace, bestowing a kiss to Damien’s nape. Oh, already the man was making Damien feel like butter on bacon! Their canoodling was interrupted by the delighted barking of Betsy, who dashed from the living room to hop a bit on her paws at the men’s feet. Damien extracted himself from Robert’s grasp to kneel and pet the terrier.

“Hello again, my dear lady!” Damien cooed at the dog. She was always a treat to see. An added perk to having Robert as his paramour. Damien lightly ruffled the fur of Betsy’s neck before Robert helped him stand and led him out of the entryway, where Damien left his bag for now.

This was when Damien was able to properly look about. The space, as he remembered from his brief time in the house before, was actually much…cleaner! The coffee table, fleetingly seen before littered with beer cans, liquor bottles, and used glasses of various types, had been cleared and (hopefully) washed. The floor that once had scattered boxes and other items Damien hadn’t been able to identify now was visible. True, the carpet’s cleanliness was….questionable, at best, but at least they could move about without crushing anything or stepping on something odd. Damien turned to glance toward the kitchen, which matched the living room in its neatness. He never did remember what happened on the night that had led him here, but if he had seen the kitchen at all, is was during the black blot of his memory, and not when he had been cognizant.

“You didn’t haven to tidy up for me,” Damien said politely as Robert left him at the sofa.

“Yeah, I did,” Robert replied. He crossed to the kitchen and retrieved a box from the counter top, and a bottle of wine from the refrigerator, as well as two glasses from another cabinet. “Tonight’s special. You’re gonna sit and enjoy yourself and not do any of the work.”

“Very considerate of you, dearest,” Damien said. “But are you sure you don’t need help with all of that?”

“I got it,” Robert assured him. Indeed, the man was quite dexterous. Glasses, wine, and the box—a pizza box—were all delivered to the coffee table, and once Robert’s hands were free, he took Damien by the arm and guided him down to sit. “Relax! I’ve got it.”

Damien sat down, and though his instincts as a courteous host demanded he should do something, he kept his hands on his lap while Robert poured their drinks and opened the box for their dinner. Damien looked at their meal with surprise. “Half and half?”

“Hey, it’s the best deal goin’. Veggie lover’s you’re side. Hawaiian on mine, minus the ham.” Robert glanced at Damien, “In case you wanna try it.”

“I confess I’m not usually one for fruit on pizza,” Damien eyed their meal a little, “But you always give my cuisine a chance.” Damien couldn’t deny the sense of pride he felt from making Robert smile at his agreement. Robert grabbed a slice from his side and offered the point to Damien.

“Open up.”

 _In for a penny,_ Damien thought before he cupped Robert’s hand and bit into the slice.

“Well?” Robert asked.

“Interesting flavors,” Damien said. Robert chuckled and started consuming the rest of the slice. Damien took one of the vegetable-lover’s pieces and they ate in comfortable silence for a few moments. Betsy trotted over and after a bit of whining, even she was given a couple of slices of pizza, though Damien did point out they weren’t precisely healthy for her diet. Eventually, Betsy fell asleep in satiated peace while Robert reached for his television remote.

“One more thing,” Robert said between bites. “We’re watchin’ one of my favorite movies. I think you’ll like it, babe.”

Damien looked over at the large flat-screen hanging on the wall, and raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Is it… perhaps a war documentary, or a film about a cryptid?” He hoped deeply that it wasn’t a horror movie.

“Babe, don’t you even look at my Dadbook thing?”

“I confess, not entirely. While I did put honesty into mine, I assumed yours would be more… In jest.”

“What’d I say about assumin’?” Robert asked. “Chill out. It’s an old Italian film.”

“Really?” Damien hadn’t been aware Robert liked foreign films. “What is it?”

“ _Le Notti di Cabiria_ ,” Robert said, the words flowing from his tongue in far too easy elegance. It took Damien by great surprise.

“Goodness, it must be your favorite for you to have memorized its untranslated title.”

“S’not that,” Robert said, “I’m quarter-Italian.”

“Really?” Damien asked, voice too clear on his shock at this reveal. “You aren’t trying to sell me a dog?”

“What?” Robert asked.

“Ah, it- it’s a Victorian term for ‘telling a story’ or ‘lying,” Damien explained. “…You aren’t are you?”

“No. I’m really a quarter-Italian.”

“Oh,” Damien said, his awe renewed. “You never mentioned!”

“No one asks, and it doesn’t come up,” Robert said with a shrug of his shoulders. When Damien really considered it, it made sense. Robert’s dark olive tones, his nose, and other facial features. They did strike him as a bit more Mediterranean with a dash of the Anglo-Saxon blood.

Once Robert had the DVD player going, he stretched out along the sofa, one leg on the floor, the other on the cushions, then he pulled Damien close. “C’mere,” Robert said as he made Damien settle in between his open thighs. “Get comfy. I promise, you’ll like it.”

“I like one aspect of it,” Damien said cheekily before he allowed himself to set his own booted feet up on the sofa and rested back against Robert’s chest.

The film was, at first, confusing, and a bit strange. It moved rather quickly, and after reading the subtitles to the Italian dialogue, Damien asked, “Robert, what is--?”

“Shh,” Robert said, “Just keep watchin’.” Damien continued to observe as a rather tragic yet quite intriguing story unfolded. ‘Nights of Cabiria’ turned out to be about a prostitute who dreamed of love, in spite of her life’s circumstances and running into tragedy and humiliating misadventures. After the final title card appeared, Robert tucked his face close to Damien’s ear.

“Well? Whatcha think?”

Damien turned slightly in Robert’s arms to see his face. “It was lovely. Tragic, in many senses, but a beautiful film. Quite different from today’s media.”

“Italian Neo-realism was about mixin’ some pretty wild images with stories that weren’t cookie-cutter or the ‘happily ever after’ bullshit that America and other countries liked shellin’ out. This is Post-war cinema at its best,” Robert explained. “No one wanted to take a chance on a movie about a hooker who wanted to fall in love, and losin’ everything anyway. No man, no marriage, no reward. Life’s hard times, bare and out to see. It’s why I like the genre, and why this movie’s my favorite. Cabiria put her heart out again and again, and every time, she got hurt. And at the end, she didn’t get a prince charming on a horse or a rich husband; just a walk of shame back home and knowin’ that the world ain’t gonna be perfect.”

“That isn’t what I saw,” Damien said. “I thought the ending was happy,” Damien said. How had Robert not seen that? Robert looked confused, however.

“What’dya mean? Both her boyfriends threw her away and took her money. She didn’t get what she wanted.”

“But all of those people with her at the end,” Damien countered, “How they accepted her as she walked back alone? Her smile through her tears? Robert, didn’t you see the hope in her eyes?”

“Hope?”

“Yes,” Damien said. “She saw that life could go on, with or without her men. That she could stand, start again. Even with all that happened to her, she didn’t give up.”

Robert stared at Damien for quite a while, his look of confusion turning into one of deep reflection, then a familiar softness mingled with heat as his pupils began to dilate. Robert leaned in and slotted their lips together, gentle, but consuming.

Damien hadn’t anticipated the kiss, and made a soft sound against his lover’s lips. He blinked a bit, and tried to pull back, but Robert cupped the back of his head with one hand, fingers tangling in Damien’s hair. When Damien did manage to part their lips, he was gasping for air.

“Dearest, what was that for?”

“I can’t figure you out,” Robert said. It wasn’t an answer by any means, and Damien was about to ask him to clarify, but Robert continued, “You dress like a damn vampire, and cover your house in bats and gargoyles and other shit, but you… You’re like some fuckin’ Disney character under all of that, and I can’t…” Robert shook his head and leaned in until their foreheads were touching. “Do you know what you do to me?”

Damien sighed and wrapped his arms around Robert’s neck. “I should like to think you know me well enough now that I am not as lofted in your eyes as you claim. I know my aesthetics and interests are a contradiction to my nature. But you’re also not what you make others think you are.” Damien moved back, sitting on his knees. “You’re gentler than your façade would have anyone believe. You’re kinder than you realize.” Damien let out a soft laugh. “Do **_you_** know what you do to _**me**_?”

Robert grinned at the repetition. He stood, taking Damien by the hand and pulling him up.

“I want you,” Robert murmured as he placed his hands on Damien’s waist. The older man moved his feet backward until they were stopped by the wall that framed the stairwell.

“You have me,” Damien said. His earlier doubts and trepidation had flown from his thoughts. Damien drew himself up taller, and stepped out of Robert’s grasp. It was time to put his plan in motion. “Tell me your safe word, dearest.”

“Cryptid.” Robert stayed at the wall, but turned his head to watch Damien walk to the entryway and retrieve his bag.

“Go upstairs,” Damien ordered with a gentle but strong tone. “Strip for me. I’ll be with you shortly.”

Robert answered with, “Yes, Boss,” before he pushed off the wall and obeyed. Damien smiled, and he began his preparations.

* * *

 

Robert chucked off his clothes the second he was in his room, and laid himself out on his bed. He’d gone all out in his cleaning before Dames had come over. He even put clean sheets on his bed after he’d jerked off earlier that day. He was hard from the anticipation of waiting on Damien to get upstairs, his cock laying on his stomach and practically twitching already. He watched the door to his bedroom, and tried his best not to just reach down and just get the party started, but he’d been told to wait. He wasn’t going to disappoint Dames by moving before he was ordered. He wanted to give Damien everything he had tonight. Soon, Robert’s patience was paid with the sound of footsteps on his stairs.

When Damien came in view, Robert nearly whined. Dames had already been dressed in the red suit before, but he’d gotten rid of the jacket and cape and only had on the black and red vest, red pants, and God fucking dam it, he had changed out of his usual knee high bots into thigh high boots. Thigh high! With heels! How’d he packed those away in that bag? Robert watched Damien slowly make his way into the room, and set the bag on the foot of the bed. Damien slowly strode around the bed, staying just out of Robert’s reach.

“Very good, dear,” Damien purred at him. “I expected you naked and waiting, but not splayed so for me. I’m proud of you.” As Damien said that, he reached his black-tipped fingers to run under Robert’s stubble-dusted chin. Robert wanted to follow those fingers as they swept away from him.

“Am I doin’ good, Boss?” Robert asked.

“Exceedingly,” Damien told him as he did another circuit around the bed. “Now for your reward.”

Robert’s mouth was already watering. He waited for Damien to start stripping. To beg him for some oral or a good fucking, or to worship his body, and God if Robert wasn’t ready to do just that. But instead of joining him right then, or going for any clothes, Damien stopped walking, and went for the bag.

“I had a long while to think of how to reward you,” Damien said as he reached in the bag and took out a pair of latex gloves. “And I came to a great revelation. You said you wanted to take care of me tonight, but you always take care of me; at least, as my lover, and my plaything.” Damien looked at him from under half-closed, painted eyelids. “I come first almost every time, and you wait for your turn at release. And that seems to me a bit… selfish. You’ve been far too good to have to wait for your special attention tonight.”

Robert’s breath hitched. He watched Damien take out a bottle of lube from the bag. Robert licked his lips. “What are you doin’, Dames?”

“Isn’t it obvious, dearest?” Damien took out one more thing from his bag. A long, white dildo. It had to be somewhere between seven or eight inches! It was molded thick and veiny. Damien set it down on the bed and started putting the gloves on.

“Boss,” Robert whimpered.

“Shush, my dear,” Damien ordered, his voice almost whispering. “I hope you’ll enjoy my gift to you.”

As he watched Damien adjust the gloves, Robert’s chest rose in fast, short breaths. This was almost better than what he’d wanted to do, and it was also a bit intimidating. And he was not a man easily intimidated! He liked topping from the bottom, his usual position anyway, but he liked going for straight-up bottoming, too. But the last time he’d been mostly the bottom was when he’d been with Joseph. And Joseph had been one hell of a Dom, along with being a rough top. Robert licked his dry lips again, and said, “Y’know baby, you don’t need the gloves.” Something to keep his head in the now, focusing on Dames.

Damien climbed onto the bed, finally, and grabbed the lube bottle. “And risk my nails harming you in such a delicate place? That would be a pain I doubt you would like. I want to pamper you tonight, my dearest.” He slicked up his left hand in lube, then used his right hand to shove one of Robert’s legs up. Robert followed the directly and drew both up, opening and exposing his ass for his Dom. Damien smiled wide. “Very good, darling.” As Damien squeezed more lube over Robert’s pucker, the older man took a deep, deep breath and grit his teeth. Grabbed at his sheets and twisted them into his hands. He was practically shaking, and he knew he was doing the exact opposite of what he needed to. He should be relaxing, keeping his muscles loose—

“Dearest,” Damien’s voice broke through his thoughts and their eyes met. Dames moved in close and looped his right arm around Robert’s left leg and put his pale cheek on the knee. “Say your safe word.”

“Cryptid,” Robert answered.

“Do you want to stop?” Damien’s hand stroked at Robert’s thigh.

Robert let out his breath. “No. But I… Baby I don’t know how to get outta my head right now.”

“Then I shall try to draw you out.” Damien kissed Robert’s knee. Then again just a bit above the joint. Then he moved in with kisses along Robert’s thigh until he was Robert’s groin and giving his balls and cock-base wide licks and kisses, while he rubbed lubed fingertips over a slicked up, still tight hole. He didn’t try pushing in yet, he was just rubbing, and it started feeling good, along with the attention on Robert’s dick. Robert shut his eyes and just focused on the lips and tongue on him. Damien gave the best blow-jobs. Those gorgeous lips held him just right, and that tongue had skills that very few others in Robert’s long list of sex partners showed. When Damien’s fingers pulled Robert’s foreskin back and his mouth slid over the exposed tip, Robert finally eased into his pillow and his body started to relax.

Damien sucked on Robert for a few passes before Robert felt the fingertips start to push into him. He didn’t fight them, not on purpose, but he was tight, and he knew it. Outer rings of muscle, first. Then the next. And the next. Damien was going slow and thoroughly, taking time. Robert knew that was really, really good, he honestly just wanted Dames to hurry up and get to the—WHOA! Robert gasped as he felt those long fingers brush over his sweet spot, hips shooting up unintentionally. Damien gagged slightly around Robert’s dick and lifted his head away.

“Sorry! Shit, sorry,” Robert sputtered.

“Ah, no, forgive me, my dear,” Damien said after he recovered. “I seem to have found your center. Shall we try that again?” Damien started rubbing his fingers back and forth over that one spot, and Robert knew he was turning into a giant mess. He could feel his spit-slick cock pulsing. A glance down and he saw it starting to leak, too. Robert flailed one arm out to grab the edge of his mattress, while the other he used to grab for Damien’s right hand. Damien gave it to him, grip firm. Dames finger-fucked Robert for what felt like a long time, making the older man squirm and groan.

Robert was about to hit his limit and started panting, “Ba- Baby! Baby, please! Please!”

“Please what, my dear?” Damien asked, his breathing getting ragged, too.

“Fu- Fuck me!” Robert begged. “Fuck me raw and hard, please?”

Damien slid his left hand’s fingers out of Robert’s ass, and Robert almost regretted it. Then Damien let go of Robert’s hand, and he almost asked for it back. Robert watched Damien rip the gloves off, and throw them toward the trash can in the corner. He had no idea if the younger man actually got them in because Dames started lubing up the dildo. Damien patted his hand against Robert’s hip.

“Roll over, dearest.” Robert flipped onto his belly, and raised his ass high. Damien eased it down just a little, then pressed the tip of the toy against Robert’s now prepped hole.

“Breathe,” Damien told him. “Breathe, and relax, my dear, sweet, patient Robert.” Robert obeyed, and as he was exhaling, Damien pushed it in.

“Jesus, FUCK!”

“Safe word,” Damien prompted.

“Cryptid!”

“Shall I stop?”

“You better fuckin’ not!” Robert snapped. Damien slapped his hand hard against Robert’s ass cheek.

“Mind your manners,” Damien scolded him.

Robert whined low in his throat. “Sorry, Boss. Please, don’t stop.”

“That’s better, dear,” Damien said, tone cajoling again. The younger man used the same patient, slow process as before as he got the toy inside, going ring to ring until it was in deep enough. But because of that thorough prep, Damien was able to get into a good pace right away. As Dames fucked Robert with the dildo, the tall, lean man crawled over Robert’s body, stopping only when he was right on top of the older man, chest pressed hard to Robert’s back, one hip curved against Robert’s ass, moving in time with the thrusts of Dames’s hand.

“Tell me how you feel, my dearest,” Damien urged.

“It’s so good,” Robert said, breathless and grabbing at his pillows and half burying his face into it. “Fuck, baby, it’s so good I can’t even—”

“Let’s make it even better, shall we?” Damien reached around and his other hand found Robert’s cock, and Robert lost it. He couldn’t stop himself from bucking and humping into that firm, anchoring grip around him. Damien’s body followed Robert’s as his pace went faster and faster. Robert chased his pleasure right on until he was at the edge.

“Dames,” Robert pleaded. “Please? Can I cum, please?”

“Of course, dearest,” Damien told him. “You’ve earned it; deserve it.”

Robert shoved his face into his pillow and screamed, fingers tight and white-knuckling on it while he fucked into Damien’s hand. When Robert finally started to spurt, he felt Damien take the toy out and Robert let out a long, deep groan. He vaguely heard a thud as the dildo was tossed somewhere. The mattress moved and dipped as Damien climbed off Robert’s back and crawled around. Damien pulled at Robert’s shoulders, and Robert immediately wrapped his arms around his sweetheart.

“Fuck,” Robert heaved into Damien’s chest.

“Yes, that is what we did,” Damien said. Dames rubbed his hands over Robert’s back for a bit as Robert calmed down.

When Robert’s arms and legs felt less like butter and more like actual, functioning body parts again, he looked up into Damien’s face. “Your turn.”

“I wanted to focus on you,” Damien said. “You don’t have to.”

“I wanna,” Robert said, giving Damien a quick kiss to his mouth. “I need to.” Robert’s hands went right for Damien’s pants, opening them up and getting right to where Dames’s cock was hard, sensitive, and slick. It made Damien shudder against him, and Robert laughed.

“Shit, you’re soaked down there,” Robert teased.

“D- Don’t,” Damien warned him, though his tone fell flat and turned into a soft whine as Robert’s hands worked. It didn’t take very long at all for Damien to start thrusting his hips up, legs drawing up and framing Robert’s body, mouth open wide in a wordless wail.

“That’s it, gorgeous,” Robert said. “You made me feel so good, it’s your turn, now.” Robert didn’t stop until Damien’s grip on his shoulders went slack, and the boot-clad legs stretched out.

The men’s movements were slow after all of that. Robert rolled off of Damien, away from the majority of the cum on the sheets. Damien got up, left the room for a bit. When Damien came back, his makeup and contacts were gone, pale body completely nude, and the younger man had a wet towel in his hand for clean-up. When neither of them were sticky or wet anymore, Robert tugged Damien in to spoon him.

“That was…fuck, that was somethin’, babe,” Robert said into Damien’s thick, soft hair. “Thank you.”

“Mm,” Damien hummed, “You’re most welcome, dearest.”

Robert grunted, already starting to fall asleep.

* * *

 

The ringtone was loud, and vaguely familiar, though Damien couldn’t place it, even after it roused him from sleep. The time was still early, not even seven thirty. Damien reached for the phone—Robert’s phone—without thinking very much into it, and swiped to receive the call.

“Wow, didn’t expect you to actually pick up,” said a youngish, slightly husky female voice.

“Hello, and good day.”

“Wait, who the hell is this?” the female on the other end of the line demanded. “Is this Robert Small’s phone?”

“My apologies,” Damien said, waking further. He moved from Robert’s still lax arms into a sitting position. “It is, I just picked up. I am Damien Bloodmarch.” Damien’s motions and his talking, however, roused Robert, making the older man grunt and turn onto his back.

“Whoever it is,” Robert said, “Tell ‘em to fuck off.”

“Give that lazy shit the phone,” the woman ordered. Damien’s hackles raised slightly. Who was this woman to give such commands and show such disrespect to anyone, especially Damien’s lover?

“Who may I ask is calling?” Damien retorted, his tone as hard as he could manage.

“Val,” the woman said, “His daughter.”

Damien blood turned into ice in his veins, and his brain ceased to function briefly. He lowered the phone from his ear, staring at the screen. He hadn’t looked at it when he had answered before, and indeed, the name ‘Val’ was paired to the number. Damien turned slightly, and extended the phone to Robert.

“…It’s Val.” Damien could hear the shake in his own voice. Robert’s eyes opened and he looked once, then twice at the phone before snatching it from Damien’s hand, and practically sprinting out of the bed.

Damien felt lost. Disoriented, as if he’d been struck a blow.

Val? A daughter? Robert had never said anything regarding a daughter. There was no evidence in his life of one. Nor a spouse, of any sort.

Damien suddenly felt chilled. He looked around, grabbing the first bit of clothing he could locate (one of Robert’s shirts), and put it on. It did not help the cold feeling on his skin, but at least he had something to focus on. He could vaguely hear Robert talking elsewhere (the bathroom?), and sounding vexed. After a bit, the talking stopped, and Robert returned.

His expression was like rough stone, and his tone no better. “You should go.”

Damien’s brows knitted together. “What? Why? Robert, I don’t understand.”

“Look, it’s,” Robert let out a hard sigh. He walked around the room, grabbing his clothes from the night before. Since Damien had Robert’s shirt on, Robert let out a breath of frustration and got another from a drawer. “I’ll explain it some other time, just…Just go, okay? We’ll make a date soon.”

Damien looked down. “I see.” Damien left the bed and retrieved his bag, pulling his work clothes from it. He scolded himself mentally. He should have never answered the phone, or should have hung up once Robert said he didn’t want to speak to anyone, or…

“Fuck,” he heard Robert say before dark arms went around Damien’s shoulders. Robert’s mouth was pressed against his ear. “Baby, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, just… I’m sorry.”

Damien hadn’t realized he had been crying. He touched one hand to his cheek, and indeed, it was wet. He tried to pull away, but Robert held him fast.

“I simply don’t know what I can do to make up for my mistake,” Damien said. That made Robert turn him around.

“That wasn’t your fault,” Robert said, “What the hell made you think that?”

“You were angry,” Damien explained.

“Not at you,” Robert told him. “But…fuck, I’m doin’ like my old man.”

Damien felt even more confused, and it must have shown on his face. Robert continued, “My Pappy used to snap at me or my mom when shit got on his nerves, and he’d get… He’s mellowed a little since he got old, but he’s still a drunk. I…take too much after him.” Robert ran a hand through his hair, then asked, “Why d’you think stuff’s your fault? You’ve done that before.”

Damien looked downward, and said, “For the same reason. My father always… put blame on someone else. No matter what, it was always someone else’s doing.”

This was something that Damien rather did not like having in common with Robert. But better to know. Robert took hold of Damien’s hands. A grave and grim silence surrounded them.

Damien broke it by stating, “You never told me you had a daughter.”

Robert’s hands squeezed at Damien’s fingers. “No one asks. Doesn’t come up.”

Damien let out a soft, soft sigh. “Does… she call often?”

“No,” Robert said. “We’re not close.”

“I see.” Damien shut his eyes. He was beginning to realize that he did not know Robert as well as he previously thought. When he opened his eyes, he looked into Robert’s. “Dearest, I don’t know what you’ve been through to make you so closed off, or see the world so harshly; what hurt or pain you’ve endured—”

Robert winced, and started to walk away, but Damien grabbed for his lover’s hands again, anchoring him to the spot again.

“And I shan’t demand you tell me!” Damien continued. “But whatever it was, please, believe that there can be something good to find in the world. Light in the darkness, like the moon shining in the night. And I will do my utmost to be your moonlight, if I can. If you will let me.”

Robert looked at Damien’s face again. Then at their hands. “There’s stuff I don’t wanna talk about,” Robert said. “That I… Shit.” Robert squeezed Damien’s hands again, and then tugged away. This time, Damien let him go. Robert ran both of his hands through his hair. “I need a drink.”

“Then we shall have one and you can tell me, or not tell me,” Damien offered.

“Don’t you have work?” Robert asked.

Damien stepped over to his bag and pulled his phone out. “I can call out. I’ve been saving personal days for a reason.”

After Damien made his excuses to his employer, he and Robert got properly dressed, and went downstairs. Between the remainder of last night’s wine and pizza, and some sympathetic, curious cuddling from Betsy as she awoke to their presence in the living room, Damien learned about Robert’s daughter, Val, and his wife Marilyn. It was not an easy story to hear, but Damien stayed, and listened, and held his lover when the man needed him.

* * *

 

Joseph was up first once again, and as per each morning, he sipped on his coffee as he walked through his ground floor, opening the curtains to see the neighborhood begin its day. And, as per more recent days, he looked in curiosity toward Damien’s house for signs of a nightly visitor. When he didn’t see anyone leave the black-painted house, Joseph stepped away to meander through other rooms. 

After finishing his cup and leaving it in the sink, he walked back through his living room, and paused when he happen to look and movement from Robert’s porch caught his attention. He went still as a man in grey trousers and a purple polo, and carrying an over-night bag, stepped into view. It was Damien in his work clothes (naturally Joseph knew about Damien’s actual profession; he’d seen the man at the shelter sometimes when he’d stop by on rare occasions to have a word with Mary). The only difference was that Damien had his hair down. Was he not going in to work? A minute after, Robert followed Damien out.

Joseph stepped closer to the window, but pulled the curtain quick, to stay out of sight as he watched their interaction. The two men seemed to be talking. Their bodies were close, chests almost touching. Damien’s right hand went up and was stroking Robert’s cheek. Robert turned his face to that hand. Then they were kissing… Joseph stepped away from the window, unable to watch anymore.

It’s none of his business. Joseph’s hands clenched into fists at his sides.

It had nothing to do with him. Joseph turned and went for the rec room.

He fumbled through his cabinet for his CD. His hands shook as he inserted it into his stereo. He stopped and before he could hit play. Joseph stumbled and reached his hand to the wall. Leaned on it.

A deep, primal roar, born from his belly and some place dark and horrible, came out of him. As Joseph sank to the floor, his vision blurred. First a black as pitch. Then the deep red of blood.

**Author's Note:**

> And so next time, the real trial begins! I hope you all liked this part. It actually required a good bit of research, and yes, I did watch 'Nights of Cabiria' to know what it was about. 
> 
> I also put in my personal headcanon that Robert is part Italian. While part of that has to do with Robert's design and coloration, another part is because I think he bears an uncanny resemblance to actor Frank Grillo, and I would totally and utterly cast him as Robert in a live-action production (though I doubt that will ever happen, hah!). 
> 
> As always, leave a kudos, please please please comment and critique! Follow me on justthefangirl.tumblr.com for updates, WIPS, and me just reblogging random crap from the fandoms I like or anything I feel compelled to share. Toodles!


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